


I don't have a type but you're still not it

by orphan_account



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Bilbo doesn't want the D, F/M, Fluff, Genderswap, Humour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-09
Updated: 2013-02-09
Packaged: 2017-11-28 17:10:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/676848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is one and only one thing that Bilbo doesn't love wholeheartedly about Thorin, and that's what's in his pants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I don't have a type but you're still not it

**Author's Note:**

> taking a break between long fics, and I wanted to write some silly fluff just to prove I still can.

It wasn't that Bilbo didn't like Thorin. Quite the opposite, really. You had to love someone that majestic and powerful. And love him Bilbo did.

He loved the way Thorin moved, the way he fought, the way he stared into emptiness when he longed for his lost kingdom.

He loved Thorin's deep voice, the shiver it sent down his spine when the king sang, and Thorin's laughter, rare as it was, and the soft smile he'd show his nephews sometimes.

He loved the little signs that Thorin cared for his company, how he always had time for their problems at night, and how he made sure that no one was laughed at, or pushed aside.

Bilbo loved everything about Thorin.

Everything, expect for what was hidden in his underwear.

Love knew not the boundary of gender. Bilbo had heard as much, in his youth, about some twice removed cousins of his, girls who had found love not in men but in one another. This things happened, and there was nothing to be done about it but to prepare two wedding dresses instead of one.

And Bilbo would not have minded, really. He'd even have dressed as a bride _himself_ , for Thorin's sake. He'd have done anything, anything at all, but the idea of touching another man's private parts was above his strength. He _had_ tried to picture it, more than once. He _wanted_ to be intimate with the dwarf, and to share his bed. But touching a penis that wasn't his, he just couldn't _stand_ the idea.

So he tried to hide his affection, as much as he could. To be honest, he wasn't doing a very good job of it, and he knew it. But, thank heaven, Thorin hated him, and thought him a dead weight for the party. Bilbo was safe, and had no fear that his love would ever be returned.

Until Azog.

It had been fairly stupid of Bilbo to go and try to defeat orcs for the dwarf he loved. But he didn't regret it. Living after having seen Thorin die would have been too hard, and things _were_ rather hopeless anyway, so he had felt like going with a bang. And they had been saved, in the end, though Gandalf was to thank for that, more than him.

But then, on that great rock where the eagles had left them, Thorin had hugged him. Thorin. Thorin Oakenshield. Future King under the Mountain. The dwarf who hated him. The dwarf whom he loved. _That dwarf_ , had _hugged_ him. Bilbo could have died happy in that moment (although, not litterally, please. He had had enough near-death experiences for quite a while, thank you very much). And it was nice to think he'd been in physical contact with Thorin at least once.

It should have been the end of it. Bilbo had done something stupid, Thorin had appreciated it, end of story. But it wasn't. That night, as they slept on the Carrock, as Gandalf called it, Thorin had insisted to share his coat with the hobbit.

“It's cold, so high up,” the dwarf had grumbled. “You will freeze to death, dressed like you are, and we simply can't have that.”

Bilbo had tried to protest of course. The prospect of being so close to Thorin was both exhilarating and terrifying. In the end, he had no choice: the dwarf would simply not let him refuse. Bilbo had never slept better than that night, surrounded by Thorin's warmth.

The next day, as they walked toward the house of one of Gandalf's friends, Thorin insisted to walk next to Bilbo, and for some reason he kept finding excuses to touch the hobbit. There was grass in his hair, dirt on his back, he had a scratch on his cheek. Thorin was good at this, too. His hands were surprisingly soft and delicate, and every single one of these accidental touches had Bilbo shivering.

From any other dwarf, it might have meant acceptance at last, friendship even. But Thorin was not any other dwarf, he had never been that... _tactile_ , not even with his nephews. Bilbo was scared of what it could mean. Should Thorin have any _interest_ in him, his life would soon become a true hell: the dwarf would probably not take kindly to being rejected. The best Bilbo could hope for was that, if attraction there was, it was purely physical. It would probably be easier to deal with that than with any sort of romance. It would break Bilbo's heart to have to break Thorin's.

* * *

  
  


Beorn's house was nice, and warm, and safe, and had plenty of food and ale and all sorts of nice thing. Bilbo liked it almost as much as Rivendell, though he _did_ wish the tall man would stop calling him a rabbit. He was a _Baggins_ , from _Bag-End_ , and deserved some _respect_.

Though his honour could probably be put aside until he was done eating one more of those delicious honey cakes. Food that good came before everything else. Food and beer. Which Bilbo might have drunk in larger quantities than would have been strictly reasonable, to be quite honest, but they were safe, and it was good, and what could happen to him, really?

Being taken aside by Thorin and pinned to a wall to be kissed passionately by an equally drunk dwarf prince, _that_ was what. Not that Thorin was a bad kisser. Quite the opposite. Best kiss of Bilbo's life, actually, softer than he would have expected, as if the dwarf was afraid he might break him, but with just the barest hint of teeth on his bottom lip now and then, as if to say that he also knew that the hobbit was tougher than he looked, and maybe it was the beer speaking, but it felt entirely perfect.

“I've noticed you watching me,” Thorin growled seductively, nipping at the hobbit's neck. “Ever since the Shire. And it was hell, not answering your looks, but you look like such a child, with your small beardless face...”

“Not a child,” Bilbo gasped.

“Oh, I know that now. What you did, on the cliff, that was not the act of a child. It was that of a warrior. A strong, brave warrior, and beard or not, I find you more than deserving of my affection, Bilbo Baggins.”

And with these words, Thorin took a step back to look at him, his eyes brighter than Bilbo had ever seen them, his smile sincere and fond. It was more than the hobbit could ever have hoped to hear from the prince.

It was absolutely awful.

“I am honoured that you would think of me this way,” Bilbo whispered sadly. “But I cannot... return those feelings, and for this I must apologize.”

“Do you believe me to be joking, halfling? I know I have been anything but kind to you, until recently, and you did not deserve the way I behaved toward you. But I know of your feelings, and I know mine as well. I assure you I am most sincere in offering you my heart and my bed, Bilbo.”

It hurt, seeing the dwarf so hopeful, and hearing him wanting to give himself to Bilbo, when it was all he wanted too. But the mere mention of bed had the hobbit panicking. He could not do that. He simply could not.

“I am sorry, Thorin, son of Thror, but I simply _cannot_ lie with another _male_ ,” he said. And, before the dwarf could react, the hobbit slipped away, and went back to the others, hoping the prince would not dare to continue that conversation in front of the company.

He had done the right thing, he knew that. It would have been cruel to give the dwarf any hope, only to refuse him access to his body later on. This way, it would be easier for everyone. And if he cried, well, that could be blamed on the beer, and the stress of the past few days.

* * *

  
  


Bilbo woke up the next morning with one of the worst hangover of his life. Maybe he should have stopped drinking after Thorin little confession, though at the time getting wasted had seemed like the best way to deal with it. Now, with a headache like he'd never known before, and a mouth that felt like trolls had relieved themselves behind his teeth, he was reconsidering that decision.

At least, Thorin wasn't around when he finally managed to open his eyes. Thank heaven for small mercies, he was in no state to face the dwarf. The prince must have been either furious or sad, and both option would hurt Bilbo quite as much.

The prince wasn't the only one missing. Most of the company had left the house, and was lying around outside, enjoying the sun and Beorn's honey cakes. Balin had even found some tea, and was sharing it with Fili. The young prince, seeing the poor hobit's dreadful state, called him and offered him some food. The dwarves had long ago learned how to improve their burglar's mood.

“Wheres is everyone?” Bilbo asked as he chewed carefully, to make sure he lost nothing of the delicious taste. “Seems like half of the company's gone.”

“We're taking turn bathing,” the prince explained. “There's a river, not even ten minutes away, and some of them went there. I wanted to go to, but apparently I'm not allowed, even though Dwalin's there. Terrible state of thing. It just so happens that my axe really need a good _polishing_ , if you know what I mean, and Dwalin's just the _best_ at that.”

Next to them, Balin went red and chocked on his tea, but Bilbo did not mind him. Old people did strange things, that was the way things were. Bathing, on the other hand, seemed like a very attractive idea, and he asked Fili where exactly that river was.

“Just that way,” the dwarf answered, pointing North. “Gandalf says it's straight ahead, and... wait, where are you _going_?”

“To take a bath, of course. I've been filthy since we left Rivendell, and I just can't take it anymore. Don't worry, I'm sure I'll be perfectly safe, walking there by myself.”

As he left, Bilbo was vaguely aware of Fili saying something about it being a very bad idea, but then the young prince was smacked on the back of his head by Balin, who growled something about propriety and things that should not be said in public, let alone near family members. Weird, Bilbo thought, but at that point he was rather used to the fact that dwarves were very different from hobbits.

* * *

  
  


But as he arrived to that river, Bilbo realized that the differences were much greater than he had always thought.

There were only a couple dwarves bathing there. Even from a distance, it had been easy to recognize Bofur, Kili, Dori and Dwalin, and he had been about to call them when he had noticed something _strange_ about them. So strange, in fact, that he had to get nearer, just to be sure his eyes were not deceiving him.

He had seen naked dwarves before. It would have been hard to avoid, travelling as they were, and anyway Fili always had a good excuse to take away his shirt and ask Dwalin to check this or that small bruise, to make sure it was nothing bad. Bilbo, while annoyed by what he had felt to be a rude transgression of propriety, had had plenty of time to see that dwarves where built very much like hobbits, though a lot broader and muscular.

But the dwarves he could now see naked in the water had. Well. _Breasts_ , really. There was no other word for it. Well, no, there were many other words for that, actually. Boobs. Bust. Tits. Melons. Chebs. Knockers. Funbags. _Boobies_.

Bilbo himself was rather fond of boobies. That was to say, of the _word_. Not that he disliked the things themselves. Rather _liked_ them, in fact. Though seeing them below bearded faces was a rather unusual sight, as was the rather furry aspect of what were undoubtedly _female_ bodies otherwise.

“Mister Baggins?” said a voice next to him, making him jump. “What on earth are you doing _here_?”

Thorin was about the last person the hobbit wanted to see at such a time, but he still turned to face the prince.

And found himself face to face with yet another pair of breasts.

Which was rather unexpected, really, so he felt he couldn't be blamed for staring at the prince's chest, no matter how indecent it was for him to act like that. After all, he'd just spent weeks worrying about touching Thorin's penis, and suddenly he was discovering that the dwarf probably didn't have one. Or did he? Maybe things were different for dwarves. Maybe some of their men had breasts, but were otherwise still male? A waste of perfectly fine boobies, that would be.

“I asked you a question, mister Baggins,” Thorin warned him, “and I would like to have it answered. Why are you here?”

“You have breasts,” Bilbo answered. Which probably wasn't the right thing to have said, but he was in shock after all. “Why do you have _breasts_?”

“Considering the sort of dresses hobbit lasses seem to wear, I would have expected you to have seen those before, mister Baggins, and to know they are usually considered a clear sign of _femaleness_. If your question is why do I have breasts that are not covered by clothes, I was on my way to a bath when you arrived. Having answered your question, I rather hope you will now answer mine: why are you here?”

“But you have a beard!” the hobbit insisted, forcing himself to look away from Thorin. “You cannot be a woman! _Men_ have beards.”

Thorin grabbed him by the collar, and pulled him nearer, his face torn by anger.

“I will not have you insult me again, halfling!” the dwarf growled. “I am a _woman_ , as anyone with eyes and a brain can tell, and if you call me a male one more time, I promise that you will have to fear _me_ more than any goblins. Now go back to the others, and I advise you not to show yourself to me for the rest of the day, if you do not wish to anger me!”

And with that the king pushed him away, almost throwing him off the ground, before going to join the other dwarves in the river. Bilbo fell on his bottom, but as soon as he had his senses back, he stood up and ran to Beorn's house.

He needed _explanations_.

* * *

  
  


Bilbo really wished he could have found Gandalf. Certainly, the wizard could have told him all about dwarvish women without being shocked nor surprised that he knew nothing of them. But, as always when he was needed, the old man was nowhere to be found, and instead Bilbo stumbled into Fili. Who was about the worse person to whom he could ask about such things.

“You look like you've seen a troll, mister Baggins,” the prince teased him. “Didn't found the river, in the end?”

“I did, actually. Were you aware that there were _ladies_ in our group?”

Even before Fili started laughing, Bilbo realized it had been a stupid question. Of course he'd have known. Everyone must have known. Everyone but him. Damn these dwarves.

“How could you not have noticed it?” Fili snorted. “They are about as female as you can get! Haven't you seen their beards, their eyes, the way they move?”

“No, I hadn't seen it. I... they have beards, as you said. Among hobbits, that's usually a good sign that you are entirely male, I'll have you know.”

“Right, I had forgotten you people had a face as smooth as a baby's ass. But considering your little romance with my uncle, I thought that you knew all dwarves have facial hair.”

“See? You even call him... her... you even call Thorin _uncle_ , and Kili _brother_ , so how am I supposed to... what do you mean, _my little romance_?”

The prince sniggered.

“Come on, neither of you has been very subtle about it, have you? Or had you actually not noticed that either? You did seem rather... skittish about the whole thing, I'll admit. Well, the others are obviously female, but Thorin... I can understand the mistake. I was forty when I finally realized it. Most dwarves think him a man, thought don't tell him I said that, it's a sore subject for him. Not everyone can be a pretty lass like Dwalin, eh?”

“Thorin is... unattractive by your people's standards, then?”

“For a woman, yes, but he makes a fairly tolerable man. Which really doesn't help, of course. So many people approach him as if he were male, it does things to your confidence, you know? But, again, I _never_ said that.”

Bilbo grimaced. That at least explained Thorin's anger at the river, and it must have made his rejection all the more painful. Except there was no longer any need for that rejection, the hobbit thought. There was one thing, and only one, that he couldn't have loved in the dwarf, no matter how hard he had tried, and that thing didn't even exist in the end. All he could do was hope there was still time to set things right.

As he was thinking that, the group that had been to river came back, and with them Thorin, looking more gloomy than ever. Bilbo did not lose a second, and went straight to meet them, which earned him a dark look.

“I believe I said I did not wish to see you today, halfling.”

“That you did,” Bilbo admitted, trying to stand as straight and tall as he could. “But I have some important things to tell you, and I do not believe it can wait until your anger goes, because... well, because I am not sure you'll ever be any less angry with me unless I say what I have to say.”

“And what is that?”

“I love you. I have for a long time, maybe even since the first moment I saw you, and every minute spend in your company has brought me great pleasure. Well, maybe not every minute, we've had some decidedly dark moment during our travel, but even those I could stand, because you were there, and as long as you were around, I could hope that the situation would improve. I know I've done you a terrible wrong last night, and again this morning. But I hope you'll find it in your heart to forgive me, as I acted out of ignorance only. Our people are different after all, and it's not the first time in our quest that we've seen that hobbits and dwarves do things differently. Please believe me when I say I never meant to hurt you, for, as I've said, I love you, and your happiness is what I wish for most in the world.”

If there was one thing that Bilbo had never expected to see in his life, it was a blushing Thorin. And yet, it was happening. The proud dwarf was a red as a poppy, and as embarrassed as a girl who was given flowers for the first time. Which was not necessarily a good thing, now that Bilbo thought about it. Maybe Thorin did not wish to make these things public. After all, he... _she_ had taken the hobbit away from the others the night before, to make her offer. A future king... queen... a future _ruler_ probably didn't want to be seen fooling around with someone of a different species.

But just as he was about to apologize for yet another mistake, Bilbo felt huge, warm hands taking his, and lips kissing him shyly.

“I believe that you never meant any harm, Bilbo Baggins,” Thorin said, with the same fond smile he'd had the night before. “As for your love, I am more than happy to accept it, if you will allow me to give you my own heart in exchange.”

“Nothing would please me more, Thorin Oakenshield.”

And with that they kissed again, not caring that the rest of the company was around them, making comments about them and exchanging small bags of money.

The end


End file.
